


Intervention

by GENERAL_KENOBI22



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, Humorous Intervention, Multi Characters, Whedonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2887040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GENERAL_KENOBI22/pseuds/GENERAL_KENOBI22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Scoobies decide to hold an intervention when Buffy becomes obsessed with Twilight.  The books, not the Big Bad from the season eight comics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came from an ear worm that would NOT let go until I wrote it, and so TA-DA! While I really do enjoy Whedon's work, I don't worship at his feet; however if the alternative is Stephanie Meyer...well, you get the picture :)

"We need to talk."

Four of the most dangerous words in the English language, and for most girls, they were usually supporting players in a conversation involving a boyfriend. But Buffy was not most girls which was precisely why this conversation was between she and her watcher. Although he couldn't have called at a worse time. Not that this seemed to bother him in any way.

"Giles, are we breaking up?" she asked innocently, a smile tugging at her lips. Watcher torture was fun, and also slightly therapeutic.

She could almost hear his frown through the telephone line. "Of course not," he replied tersely, ignoring her attempt at light banter. Inwardly, or maybe outwardly, she rolled her eyes. It was business all the time with this one. "But after you patrol tonight," he continued, "your presence shall be required at the house. Everyone is—finally—simultaneously available to hold that meeting regarding—"

"—my pay raise since I have averted more than my fair share of apocalypses?" she asked hopefully, but then she frowned. "Apocalypsi?"

"Erm, among other things, yes," he replied dryly, obviously not having nearly as much fun as she was.

She smiled to herself. "Okay. But if it turns out that you're breaking up with me, Giles, I _will_ find you. And then: cue the water works."

This time she could hear him rolling his eyes which seemed like a very un-British thing to do. Big meanie. "Don't be tiresome, Buffy," he admonished before hanging up with a final _click_.

"SLAYER! I WILL AVENGE MY BROTHER'S HONOR BY RIPPING OUT YOUR VITAL ORGANS, ONE BY ONE, AND—"

Now it was Buffy's turn to roll her eyes. "Whatever!" she interrupted. "Didn't you hear?"—She pulled a stake out of her jacket and drove it into the vampire's heart.—"I have to go to a meeting. I don't have time for your avenge . . . what's the proper noun form of 'avenge'? Avengefulness? Avengence?"

"I BELIEVE IT IS 'AVENGEMENT,'" the vampire piped up, stake still in his heart.

"Yeah," Buffy nodded in agreement, "I think you may be right. Anyway, I'll talk to you later."—She pulled the stake out and watched as he turned into dust.—"Or not."

Brushing herself clear of any remaining dust particles, she headed towards the exit of the cemetery, toward the Summers' residence.

* * *

"You know, I met the nicest vampire tonight," Buffy insisted as she hung her jacket up on the coat rack and closed the front door behind her. "I mean, he did try to kill me, but afterwards he helped me with a ' _grammatical quandary_ ,' which is _so_ not a phrase I thought I would use . . . well, ever. Basically, he was the perfect gentlemen. They just don't make demons like they used to."

"Buffy, please," Giles insisted, ushering her into the living room with a not at all subtle urgency. "It is of the utmost importance that we begin as quickly as possible."

"Well, geez, Giles, don't get your panties in a wad," which she thought was hilarious, but Giles felt polar otherwise. Only when she was seated did she realize that the room was filled with a _lot_ of people, some of whom she did not even recognize. "O—kay, guys, while I love 'Leave Buffy Out of the Loop' as much as anyone else, what's going on here?" She squinted. "And—is that Oz? Why is Oz here?"

Oz shrugged. "Beats me. I think I'm here to represent the werewolf demographic."

"Oh," Buffy responded, still confused beyond reason, "well . . . it's nice to see you again, Oz, and you're more than welcome to—Hey! Is that Ms. Calendar? She's dead."

"I was. I mean, I am. But you've died about, what? Two or three times?" Jenny challenged, raising a single eyebrow. "Figured it might be okay to come back and help."

"And _WHY_ is Faith here?" Buffy demanded, becoming more infuriated as the seconds passed by.

"I'm just concerned about you, B," Faith shrugged, her hair longer since the last time Buffy had seen her. "From what I've been told, it sounds like things are far from five by five."

"Well, of _course_ they're—"

"Yay-boo, yay-boo, everyone's here, including Dylan, and Kendra, and Ampata! Can we _please_ just get on with this?" Cordelia demanded, crossing her arms over her chest which was covered in a royal purple halter top. "I have an audition I need to get to. Some of us have actual jobs . . . or, at least, will have an actual job," she amended.

"Yes," Anya added, "I agree with Cordelia, who speaks in an oddly similar blunt manner as I do."

"Great," Buffy said dryly, ignoring Anya. "Cordelia's here—who invited Cordelia?"

Sheepishly, Angel's hand rose.

" _Angel_?" Buffy cried out incredulously, slightly hurt.

He managed a slight, "Hey."

"I thought we broke up. Why do you keep coming back to Sunnydale—and why did you invite _Cordelia_?" A thought occurred to her, and it made her blood run cold. "Are you two . . . _dating_?"

Angel made to answer, but Cordelia beat him to the punch. "Well, the writers and Joss seem to think so, but personally, I think it's way out of character, so no. Although, I did sleep with his son, which, again: out of character. And _super_ gross, by the way."

"You have a _son_?!" Buffy demanded, directing her outrage at Angel. "How does that even _w_ —?"

"—Yes, yes, everyone has changed, some of us have new shows, others of us were merely useless plot contrivances"—The woman from Buffy's mother's book club, Dawn, Robin Wood, and Kennedy all waved.—"b-but we need to get down to the matter at hand," Giles insisted. He exhaled jaggedly before stating plainly, "Buffy, this is an intervention."

Buffy was floored; even more surprised by this than by Riley standing in the back row. Mentally, she placed him in the "useless plot contrivance" category. Although, he did have good hands. "An inter- _whatsit_?"

Willow took a bold step forward and, all attention on her, tried to explain, "Buffy, we all care about you a lot. A-And _I_ feel like . . . well, I'm concerned that . . . what I mean is . . ."

"Buffy, you're reading too much _Twilight_ ," Xander blurted out all at once.

A collective gasp erupted from the entire room. As well as a, " _Xander_ , you're not sticking with the 'I' statements!" from Willow. And a, "So, I'm guessing this ain't the Browncoats meet 'n greet?" from a disgruntled Jayne. "Gorramit, Mal, I knew Wash took a ruttin' wrong turn somewhere back around Persephone. Next time we let Zoe drive." The two quietly snuck out the back door without much notice from the rest of the crowd.

"What?" Xander asked innocently to the shocked faces. "It's true! I mean, that's why we're all here, right?"

Buffy couldn't believe her ears. This was what the important meeting was about? Mentally, she chastised herself. She thought she had been much more discreet about her new . . . hobby. How did they find out? "I found the books under your bed when I was cleaning," Dawn answered her unspoken question.

"You don't _ever_ clean," Buffy stated angrily, frowning. Dawn had the decency to look guilty and take her place back in the crowd.

"Buffy we're worried—" Giles began.

"'I' statements!" Willow encouraged.

Giles' jaw clenched as he reworded his phrasing and started over, " _I_ am worried that you have developed an, erm, addiction to these silly books. And in an even larger sense, I fear it has affected your work ethic for the worst."

"They're not silly!" Buffy adamantly disagreed, sounding more than a little hurt. "A-And I'm not addicted. I can stop reading them any time I want!"

This time, a collective groan chorused throughout the entire crowd. Spike rolled his eyes and smacked his palm to his forehead, while Riley, having finally caught up with the others, muttered, "So that's why we're here?" before stealthily tucking his own copy of _Eclipse_ out of view.

Out of the buzz from the crowd of people, Willow stepped forward again, putting on her brave face. "Buffy, as someone who was under the influence of addiction, I know that statement holds no weight at all," she said sadly. "And it hurts me to watch you suffer like this. But the worst part is that you don't even seem to remember all the pain it caused me, the pain it caused everyone around me. I didn't think I'd have to remind you, but I lost Tara because I couldn't stop."

Despite herself, Buffy felt guilty as she watched the obvious torment on Willow's face. "Will . . ." she began, not entirely sure what to say in response. The whole room quieted as somberness fell on them.

Oz coughed. "So does that mean Tara's not in the picture anymore?" he asked hopefully.

"Well, yes," Anya answered, ignoring all the stares which had shifted from Oz and were now directed toward her. Oz emoted. "But she still clings to an entirely irrational fear of penises. I mean, at least there is a legitimate reason for my fear of bunnies. They're evil!"

Having been sobered by Anya's comments, Willow fumed, "I do not fear penises, Anya. I just prefer—"

"Okay!" Buffy finally shouted, bringing some semblance of order to her intervention, which _why_? Although she loved Willow, she had no intention of discovering the deep rooted foundations of her attraction to other women. "Look, Will," she tried again, "I will never forget the tremendous amounts of pain your magic addiction caused you, but this is nothing like that. They are just books! Principle Snyder was always saying I should read more, so isn't this a good thing? Just look at Giles! He's, like, prime minister of the pro-book agenda, and he turned out fine." She took in his tweed ensemble, and added weakly, ". . . well, for the most part."

Giles frowned and began to object, but before he could say anything, Xander countered, "Yeah, but you don't see Giles scribbling ' _Edward Cullen_ ' all over his diary along with little hearts and ' _Mrs. Buffy Cullen_ 's next to it." He paused a moment. "Mostly because his name isn't Buffy, but also because I largely suspect he doesn't own a diary . . ."

"You read my _diary_?" Buffy ordered through clenched teeth. She could feel the anger flowing through her veins. Or maybe that was just blood boiling.

"I was cleaning!" Xander insisted lamely before shirking back into the crowd, conveniently behind Dawn.

Deciding her anger was better directed toward other things, Buffy demanded, "So is this how all of you feel? Riley?"

"Well—" Riley began, his palms sweating nervously.

"It's how _I_ feel," Cordelia asserted, sounding highly affronted that she hadn't been asked individually. Willow muttered something to Xander about how she wasn't entirely certain that was the correct use of an 'I' statement. "And that's really all that matters. I've always suspected it, but you've got issues, Buffy. And they've got nothing to do with that outfit. What? Did you get in a fight with the seventies and lose?"

Dawn nodded. "She's got a point, Buffy. I mean, the other day when you dropped me off at school, you saw a silver Volvo and started freaking out. You ran after it for a good five minutes, screaming, ' _Edward! Come back!_ ' I can't even show my face in school without being laughed at."

All eyes focused on Buffy. She scoffed, "Oh, come on, you all believe her?" No one was willing to say anything. "She's totally exaggerating!"

"I don't know, Buffy," Angel said, inserting his two cents, though no one really asked for them, "the last time we talked, you referred to me as a 'vegetarian' because I didn't drink human blood. That doesn't even make sense."

Her resolve started slipping. "Well, no, it's a joke," she tried to explain. "See, because you drink pigs' blood and not human blood, so you're a—and everyone thinks I'm crazy, don't they?"

The crowd started talking softly, determinedly not looking at Buffy. Only Cordelia and Anya had the audacity to nod in agreement. And Faith.

"Not crazy, B, just a little messed up is all," Faith said, trying to soften the blow. If anything, it just made things worse. Realizing this, she tried to clarify, "Look, from one Slayer to another, lemme just say it's never a good sign when you start thinkin' things are real when they're not. Your boy, Eddie C? He doesn't exist."

Panicked, Buffy cried, "That's not true! He is real!" She tried to look around the room for someone, anyone to support her in her stance, but no one seemed to be on her side. "You guys are just jealous because I've found a vampire who's nice and doesn't have an addiction to either cigarettes or hair gel."

Simultaneously, Angel and Spike protested, "HEY!"

Giles cleared his throat, and in that moment alone demanded the room's attention. They complied. "Buffy, you must come to your senses. These books are not only dangerous to you, but also to the world as we know it. They threaten to destroy the legitimate mythology of real vampires, which explicitly state the dangers they pose to the human race."

"You're bloody well right they do!"

All eyes turned to Spike who, after witnessing the debacle before him, could no longer keep to himself. He scoffed in derision, absentmindedly playing with a lighter in his one hand. "These books are destroying the sodding vampire-human food chain. Can't even grab a tasty bite because the humans just aren't scared anymore. They think we're cuddly little things—"

"—like a care bear with fangs," Cordelia suggested.

"—Exactly! It's downright frustrating, is what it is. Just this evening, as a matter of fact, I tried biting a girl, and she just laughed. She _laughed_ at me! Said I didn't scare her. Said she knew I'd already fed 'cause my eyes were gold." He let out a laugh of crazed mania. "What the hell does that even _mean_? I mean, even Nancy-boy, here, and the Master agree with me."

"It is true," the Master assured, stepping forward, "and while I do not possess a single inkling of concern for the Slayer, I do care about the vampire race. These books will destroy any amount of dominance we once held over the humans."

After his piece was said, he quietly left through the back door of the house as everyone stared after him. "Okay," Buffy said, mega wigged. "I don't even want to _know_ who invited him. Let alone how he became un-undead."

"While I don't have a tendency of agreeing with either Spike or evil, they have good points," Angel said. "By ignoring the threat vampires pose, the human race is in great trouble."

"Yeah, what he said," Spike added flippantly, before continuing, "but more importantly: Buffy, how could you do this to me? To _us_? We had a great thing going on. No-strings attached sex, and sometimes even sex with the strings attached, and by strings, I mean ropes and sometimes even—" When Buffy's eyes widened, and she not-so subtly nodded in Dawn's direction, Spike wisely cut his description short. "B-But then you dumped me for some guy who _doesn't even exist_!"

"Edward treats me a lot nicer than you ever did. At least," Buffy corrected, "in my head anyway. Plus, I needed a real vampire. Not a . . . British one."

Spike was enraged, figurative smoke streaming out of his ears. " _REAL VAMPIRES DON'T_ BLOODY _SPARKLE_!"

"Well," Buffy began, flustered and unable to come up with a decent comeback, ". . . they should!"

"Buffy," Giles pleaded, his eyes grave and filled with concern for her, "please listen to reason. Deep down you know we are right. Deep down you know that this . . . Edward Cullen fellow is just a figment of Stephenie Meyer's imagination."

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're—"

"Whoa, hold up!" Faith interrupted. She slid off the bookcase she was perched on and approached Giles. "Did you say 'Stephenie Meyer'?"

"Erm, yes. Yes, I did. Why? Is that name important to you in some way?"

"Give me a sec, I'm thinkin'." Faith closed her eyes and craned her neck from side to side. Finally, she snapped her fingers and reopened her eyes. "I got it! Couple years back, I heard Wesley mention somethin' along the lines of a demon in the guise of a human that preyed on young girls, young women. I think he called it by that name, Stephenie Meyer."

"Yes!" Kendra piped up excitedly, a smile blossoming across her face as she, too, recalled mention of the name. "Legend has it dat she ees worse dan any vumpire to have ever roamed de planet. She ees da most evil of all demons because she sucks out dair brains and replaces dem wit maggots and udder filt."

Comprehension seemed to dawn on Giles as it lit up his face. "Yes, I remember now," he cried. "If I recall, the only way to defeat Stephenie Meyer is to introduce her to, erm, three dimensional character development and faster plot progression." He removed his glasses for a moment, and held onto the bridge of his nose. "E-Essentially," he continued when he lifted his gaze once more to the room, "the basic, foundational principles of writing."

Spike muttered something similar to, "Or to introduce her to decent vampire mythology," under his breath.

Kendra nodded, "I don't believe Mr. Pointy will be enough for dis situation."

This caused Buffy to smile, and Faith to add, "Hey, I like this girl. Why haven't we ever met before?"

"Because," Kendra explained, "I was a Slayer, too. And because I died, anudder one was called, which I am guessing was you."

"Oh," Faith managed, unsure of what to say for one of the first times in her life. "Um, thanks. I guess." Uncomfortable, to say the least, she directed towards Giles, "So, what do we do?"

But it was Buffy who answered. Realizing the danger these books posed to her, even as the Slayer, she knew what had to be done. No one should have to experience _Twilight_. "Kendra's right. Mr. Pointy won't finish Stephenie Meyer, but we have something better."

"A rocket launcher?" Oz asked hopefully.

"Taste?" Cordelia suggested.

"A yellow crayon?" Willow proposed.

Buffy shook her head. "No, we have Joss. And, well, yeah, we have weapons, too," she amended.

A collective gasp broke the following silence while all the members of the crowd began talking in excited whispers. Giles smacked his forehead with the palm of his forehead. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?"

"Who's Joss?" Kennedy wanted to know.

Dru, speaking for the very first time, explained, "He's the creator. He puts the pictures on the ribbon to tell our stories. Then, the FOX cancels them after only eleven episodes, or else moves them to Friday night time slots."

Buffy stared at her in utter confusion, not technically able to understand speech broadcasted from radio KRZY. "Um, something like that. If anyone has the kind of writing skills that could defeat Stephenie Meyers, it's Joss. So, who's with me?"

Every hand in the room rose, except for Riley who decided this wasn't his scene, so he quietly exited the Summers' residence.

"Good. That's what I like to see. Xander," Buffy ordered, standing on the arm chair she had previously been sitting in, "you're in charge of weapons. Grab everything we've got stashed. Willow, you, Giles, and Oz are in charge of transportation. Grab Oz's van, and find some other vehicles. Faith, you and Kendra are in charge of the others. Round them up, and intermix our best fighters with the weaker ones. Kennedy . . . uh, you can just stay here. The same goes for you, Robin."

"What about you, Buffy?" Angel asked, curiosity finally getting to him. "What are you going to do?"

Buffy smiled. "First, I've got to go see a doctor about a Freeze Ray; he has a PhD in horribleness or something. Then, I'm going to find Joss."

This answer seemed to satisfy Angel, so he went back to his group of fighters. The anticipation of the upcoming fight was intoxicating.

"Okay, people," Buffy called, unable to hide a grin, "let's go introduce Stephenie Meyer to the foundational principles of basic writing!"

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on FFN February 22, 2009.


End file.
